


midnight mistakes

by tenderybitch (FictitiousFanatisch)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Bad Decisions, Canon Compliant, Convenient Store, Cuddling, Drinking, Feelings, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Kissing, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Making Out, Requited Love, Texting, Would You Rather, confused doyoung, netflix and celibacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-05-14 00:36:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19262404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FictitiousFanatisch/pseuds/tenderybitch
Summary: Doyoung has a lot of feelings and Jungwoo has a lot of bad ideas.





	1. Chapter 1

 

The moon is out tonight. Its soft rays cut through the window on the far side of the room, casting a spell on the darkness.

Doyoung lays on his back, staring at the ceiling. He’s not sure why he’s awake. He was supposed to be asleep a couple hours ago, but his mind is whirring. Things have been hectic lately, and for a number of reasons.

For one, the job. While it’s always been mentally and physically taxing, and he knew exactly what he was getting into when he signed on, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it. His body still aches after hours of dance practice. They’re preparing multiple showcases at once, one in japan, and another in the us. They’re working on a new album and organizing a world tour that starts at the end of next month.

So it’s a lot.

And on top of all that is emotional dissonance. Doyoung doesn’t typically think of himself as an overly emotional person, but these days have been different. In a lot of ways.

The thought is interrupted when his phone vibrates on the nightstand.

He turns on his side and reaches for it. The brightness of the display assaults his eyes and he squints, fumbling with the controls to turn it down. He manages to see the message notification at the top of the screen. 

_are you awake?_

Doyoung stares at the message for a few seconds. He briefly considers locking his phone and flipping back over in his bed. It’s half past one and they have an early schedule tomorrow.

This is not the first time he’s gotten the same message or something similar around this time of night. And he knows indulging the boy will one way or another result in him losing more precious sleep. 

 _yeah_  

Doyoung replies anyway, despite all rational arguments. He can’t help the flutter of anticipation in his stomach when the ellipsis flickers at the bottom of the screen.

_why… hOw?_

Doyoung half smiles at that. He acts as if this has never happened before.

_could ask you the same thing_

They used to lie awake texting each other until the sun stretched through the curtains and birds chirped in the distance. Doyoung is a lot busier now than he was in those days. And so is Jungwoo.

Ever since the company first introduced them, he had a special place in his heart for the boy. Back when Jungwoo was still a trainee, quiet, painfully shy and intimidated by everything that was happening around him, Doyoung took it upon himself to be his friend. He saw himself in the boy, could tell he was bursting with talents and just needed someone to set him free. 

He found they actually had a lot in common, from music taste to style sense. Jungwoo became his closest friend in the group. They never found a lot of time to hang out, and often resorted to texting in the time in between.

 _can’t sleep_ , Jungwoo answers.

He frowns. The boy says that only sometimes, although Doyoung can’t help the motherly worry already forming in his chest that after long, exhausting work days, Jungwoo can’t come away from it all to rest. He wonders if Jungwoo’s mind is plagued with thoughts just like his.

  _:/ me neither_

_whatcha thinking about_

It’s an interesting question. What is he thinking about? He’s not really thinking about work, the other members, or their schedule. 

Somehow, at Jungwoo’s inquiry, all other potential stressors fall away from the front of his mind and leave only one thing.

It’s nothing bad, per say.

For a brief moment, he considers being honest. Honesty is the best policy. He and Jungwoo tell each other almost everything, so he knows there wouldn’t be any judgement.

But he’s not sure now is the right time; he’s never been one to take chances, especially not with close friends or family. It’s late, they’re both exhausted, and the thought alone of saying anything to jeopardize his relationship with Jungwoo is enough to have him scrambling towards a deflection.

 _thinking about how empty my stomach feels_  

It’s true anyway- he came back to the dorm late and dinner was already finished. And since no one made any effort to save him leftovers, he had to settle for a cup of instant noodles, which, after a long day, did just about nothing to satisfy his hunger. 

_wow me too. we never have any food_

_at least you got dinner_

_uhh how do you know what i got?_

_no one cooks over here_

_that’s true lol_

_i’m sooooo hungry_  

_go to sleep then_

_i can’t_  

 _try_  

_you tryna sneak out the dorm_

_and go where_

_to get foooood obv_  

_at this hour_

_yes_

_idk_  

_pleasee_

_only if you pay_

_hyuuunggg_

_those are my terms_  

 _whyyyy_  

_take it or leave it_

_uuuuuuggghhhh fine_

_meet you in the lobby in 10 :-)_

 

It takes a few minutes, but Doyoung manages to pull himself out of bed. He rifles through his drawer, finding a hoodie and some pants he wouldn’t mind being seen in and tugging them on in the dark. He grabs his phone and his wallet from the nightstand and quietly slips out of his room, the door _snick_ -ing shut behind him.

He rides the elevator down to the lobby. There are security cameras that are supposedly being monitored at the front desk, but he knows at this hour, the personnel are almost always asleep on the job, so he doesn’t think it’ll be an issue. 

The elevator dings, the doors slide open, and Doyoung steps out into the dimly lit lobby. With one glance at the front desk, he confirms the worker is asleep. He doesn’t see young Jungwoo yet, so he settles into one of the couches by the windows, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and whipping out his phone.

It only takes another couple minutes before the elevator dings again, announcing the presence of another. Jungwoo emerges from behind the sliding metal doors, glancing up and down the vacant corridor before taking hesitant steps toward the lobby.

When Jungwoo sees him, he waves theatrically, his tired eyes still radiant in the shadows of the night. Doyoung chuckles softly, locks his phone and moves to stand. he watches as the boy peers over the desk at the security guard, whose soft snores are now the only sound filling the hall.

“We should report him,” Jungwoo mentions, a deadpan expression sitting on his face. Doyoung laughs as he starts walking toward the entrance of the building.

“And in doing so, expose ourselves being out of the dorm past curfew,” he says, pushing the font door open. The cool night air rushes against his face, tousling the loose strands of his hair.

“He’s getting paid to _sleep,_ hyung. I don't know… doesn’t seem fair,” Jungwoo shrugs, tugging up the hood of his jacket. Doyoung steals a quick glance at the boy, reveling in the way his eyes glimmer with mischief in the moonlight, how the corner of his mouth lifts in a sly smirk. Jungwoo looks like he does when he’s trying to be funny. Too bad he isn’t.

“I mean, the way I see it: if he were doing what he was supposed to be doing, we couldn’t get away with what we’re doing. And if we report him, then next time there will be a new guy, who will probably report us,” he explains, ever the rational one.

”You’re right,” Jungwoo concedes, but Doyoung can tell he stopped listening halfway through his explanation. It’s okay, though, because _he’s_ the one getting free food out of this whole thing anyway.

“How was your day?” Doyoung asks, figuring he should try to make conversation. The moon hangs heavy in the sky as they start in the direction of the convenient store. It’s about five blocks down the street and Doyoung is already exhausted at the thought of having to walk that far for a lousy bowl of ramen.

“Fine. How was yours?” Jungwoo answers, glancing down at his phone. 

“Long. I finally finished recording all my parts for the new album. ‘Took a few hours,” he says, struck with another wave of exhaustion at the thought. 

“ _Oooo_ I can’t wait to hear. You have such a good voice, hyung,” Jungwoo looks up, offering a genuine smile. 

Doyoung’s excited too, but for a different reason. He couldn’t contain his excitement when the company announced Jungwoo would be in the 127 unit. Their voices blend well together and he enjoys working with the boy a lot.The two of them came up with their own harmonies for a couple tracks on the new album.

“That’s a big compliment coming from you,” Doyoung smiles to himself. Jungwoo is a really good singer. 

“Nah. Nothing that isn’t true. Nothing you don’t already know,” Jungwoo disagrees, locking his phone and tucking it in the front pocket of his pullover.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, staring at his feet. Although they’re rare these days, he’s never been good at taking compliments.

A long beat of silence stretches between them. It makes him anxious, but Jungwoo doesn’t seem to notice. The younger man eventually starts talking about his day, how he felt about dance practice and how his voice lesson went. Doyoung feels an unexplainable amount of ease just listening to him speak about such mundane things.

He struggles to define his relationship with Jungwoo. He doesn’t speak to the boy like he speaks to the other members. Conversation flows naturally between them, from their work schedule to new music they’ve been listening to, their weekend plans, to shows they’ve been watching in their spare time. Beneath their playful banter is a genuine and caring composition Doyoung still finds hard to believe he gets to have.

He’s sure it’s part of the reason his stomach is in knots and his palms are sweaty in his pockets as he talks to Jungwoo. But he manages to drown out whatever troubling thoughts cloud his mind by making jokes with the boy about their hag of a voice instructor and that stupid hat Taeyong hyung keeps parading around the dorm in.

They finally come upon the convenience store and Jungwoo steps in front of Doyoung to grab the door. He watches in amusement, thanking him under his breath as he enters the shop. He makes his way to the assortment of instant ramen in the third aisle toward the back of the store, grabs the one he always gets. When he turns around, however, Jungwoo is gone. He sighs, making his way down the aisle and glancing around the corner in search of the younger. 

Doyoung finds him in the next aisle over, having a heated internal debate between ramen, black bean noodles and ddeokbokki– or ramen AND ddeokbokki. He finally decides on the latter, then gets distracted in the snack and candy aisles. In the meantime, Doyoung walks to the back of the store, grabbing a bottled water from the cooler. When he returns, of course Jungwoo is still weighing his options. 

After ten whole minutes, he finally emerges with sour gummy worms, potato crisps and chocolate cookies and Doyoung is so glad he isn’t the one paying for all this. Jungwoo takes Doyoung’s items, sliding them on to the clerk’s counter next to his pile of snacks. He pays gladly, scoops the paraphernalia up into his arms and stumbles over to the other side of the store. Doyoung follows him, staring in judgement as Jungwoo dumps his shit all across the table closest to the microwave.

“You’re gonna make yourself sick eating all that at this hour,” he comments, unscrewing the cap on his water bottle. He reaches across the table for his ramen and peels off the plastic top, filling it up to the line. Jungwoo huffs. 

“I’m not gonna eat all of this now. Just most of it,” he smiles slyly, ripping the top off of his ddeokbokki and adding the sauce.  

It’s not like any part of this was a good idea in the first place, though. They have dance practice first thing in the morning and they’re learning new choreography, so starting the day on three hours of sleep and a stomach full of fermented convenience store food isn’t exactly something someone in their profession would recommend.

Jungwoo, totally unbothered by that idea, reaches across the table for the package of cookies. He tears the paper and pops one into his mouth, eating it with a satisfying crunch.

“You’re literally going to spew those cookies up all over the practice room floor,” Doyoung predicts, ripping open the packet of flavor and dumping it into the plastic cup. He folds the top back over the ramen, then hands the bowl to Jungwoo for him to put in the microwave.

“Are we putting money on that?” Jungwoo wonders, placing Doyoung’s ramen in the microwave and setting the timer.

“Absolutely not,” he laughs, pulling a chair out and sitting down. Jungwoo shrugs. 

“You act like we’ve never done this before, hyung,” the younger mentions. He pops the ddeokbokki in the second microwave, then moves to sit in the chair across from Doyoung. 

He has a point. This isn’t the first time they’ve snuck out of the dorm after hours and it certainly isn’t the first time they’ve traded sleep for a meal and good company. But this is the first time they’ve been alone together this early in the morning, particularly since Doyoung developed such… complicated feelings. He wishes he could stop thinking about it for one moment of his life.   

“I just wish we didn’t have rehearsal at the ass crack of dawn tomorrow,” Jungwoo sighs, eating another cookie. He offers the pack to Doyoung and the elder declines, muttering something about a diet. 

“Me too, but we definitely did this to ourselves,” he says, resting his head on his hand. Jungwoo abruptly stands, grabs a plastic spoon, then returns to his seat. He pushes aside the plastic bag of potato crisps and gummy worms to reveal a tiny cup of green tea ice cream. Doyoung frowns. _Where did that even come from?_

He rips off the top and shovels the ice cream out of the tub, raising the spoon and closing his lips around the end of it. Doyoung watches him in fascination, because how can anyone be so hungry at this hour? 

He makes a quick and risky judgement, grabbing one of the chocolate cookies from the package and using it to scoop out a dollop of the green ice cream. Jungwoo eats it, though, so it must at least be a passable flavor combination. 

Doyoung stands immediately when the microwave beeps, desperate for a distraction from the way Jungwoo is sucking on that poor plastic spoon.

He pulls his ramen out of the microwave, grabbing a set of wooden chopsticks, separating them and using them to stir the contents of the cup. He settles back into his chair, and Jungwoo frowns at him. 

“Wow, you didn’t even bother to get mine?” he stands with a dramatic breath.

“But it’s not done ye—,”

“And after I bought you ramen, too. It really is the ones closest to you that stab you in the back,” Jungwoo shoots him a glare. 

Doyoung can’t help the obnoxious bark of laughter that escapes him. The shop clerk turns toward them, startled; they’re the only ones in here and he feels kinda bad, but not really. He can’t even stop laughing long enough to explain his intentions. Which, Jungwoo isn’t exactly hearing out anyway. He has no idea how the boy manages to still be funny this early in the morning.

“I mean, if you want to your ddeokbokki crunchy and undercooked,” he finally manages to calm down, grabbing a few strings of the ramen between his chopsticks and blowing on them.

“Maybe I do,” Jungwoo rolls his eyes. He must not really though, because he doesn’t commit to the joke. He puts the cup back in the microwave, setting it for another minute and a half. He busies himself with preparing his second instant meal, adding water to his ramen cup and sticking it in the microwave Doyoung was using.

When both are finally sufficiently cooked, Jungwoo sits back down, peeling off the tops and digging in with incredible fervor, ice cream and cookies cast aside and completely forgotten. They eat in relative silence because Jungwoo can’t focus on more than one thing at a time and right now he’s focused on ddeokbokki _and_ ramen and Doyoung is rendered completely speechless by how much the younger is able to eat.

Doyoung finishes his ramen and whips out his phone, reaching toward the center of the table and plucking a chocolate cookie out of the package.

“Ya,” Jungwoo nudges his ankle with his sneaker under the table and Doyoung thinks he’s about to come for him about eating the cookie after all.

“You should… buy us beer,” he suggests instead, that mischievous glint returning to his eye. Jungwoo crushed the ddeokbokki in a heartbeat, but is not even close to finishing that ramen. There’s no way there’s any space left in his stomach for carbonated alcohol.

“You have the worst ideas tonight,” he replies, emotionlessly, rising to his feet to dispose of his trash.

“Excuse me. You definitely _partook_ in a few of my bad ideas,” Jungwoo retorts, snatching the package of cookies from the table.

“Sure, but in any case we agreed _you_ were covering this. That’s the whole reason I agreed to come with,” he folds his arms over his chest. 

“We _agreed_ I would buy you ramen. The very least _you_ could do is quench my thirst,” It’s not true and it doesn’t make sense.

Doyoung passes him the remainder of his water, quirking his eyebrow. 

Jungwoo turns up his nose. 

“What a brat,” he mutters, joking.

“Take it back!” Jungwoo gasps. Doyoung ignores him as he trudges to the back of the convenient store once again. 

He slides the glass door aside and grabs two beers from the fridge, then stalks toward the cashier. He takes out his wallet, shaking his head in bitter disbelief at the younger man seated by the window behind him. Jungwoo just smiles innocently, his eyes curving into half moons as he raises two thumbs into the air.

Doyoung pays and thanks the cashier, and when he turns around Jungwoo has completely cleared the table. He tosses his cups into the trash and tucks his chips and candy into the front pocket of his hoodie. He walks over to where Doyoung stands by the door, offering him the last chocolate cookie. The elder looks at him, uncertainty passing over his features before he takes it. Jungwoo trashes the empty packaging. Doyoung passes Jungwoo his beer as he pushes through the door at the entrance of the shop. 

The younger follows him, smiling like a spoiled rich kid on Christmas morning. He cracks open the beverage and takes a huge, disconcerting gulp. Doyoung shudders as he watches him, from the way his eyelashes flutter in concentration and the steady movement of his throat as he swallows, to the imprint of the can on his bottom lip when he pulls it away. He tears his eyes from the sight quickly, fingers scrambling to grip the pull tab on his own beer.

Jungwoo wipes the moisture from his lips with the back of his hand, pausing for a moment before a long, low belch escapes him.

“You’re crazy,” Doyoung lifts the can to his lips, tilting it back gingerly and wincing at the taste. It was cheap, so he shouldn’t complain, but it’s just so bad.

“We should make this fun. Ooo let’s play a game,” Jungwoo ignores him, his eyes already wide with amusement. Doyoung takes another sip, grimacing as the liquid slides down his throat. 

“There’s no way I’ll finish enough of this to have any fun before we get back to the dorm,”

“Come _on_ hyung, let’s just walk slow,” Jungwoo takes another long swig of the beer. He’s a real man, Doyoung thinks. He doesn’t even flinch. 

“We’ll have to take the long way,” Doyoung caves, as per usual.

“ _Yess_ ,” Jungwoo barely gets out before drinking again.  

He’s going way too fast for Doyoung’s comfort and the older can’t help but wonder why he wants to get drunk all of a sudden. Everybody knows Jungwoo is a lightweight and at the rate he’s going, he won’t have any issues getting there tonight.

They take a wrong turn on purpose and end up in the opposite direction of the dorm. They plan to loop back around at the end of the street, which should give them enough time to finish these drinks and get a buzz going.

This isn’t the worst thing Doyoung has ever done, but it is one of the more irresponsible and stupid of his endeavors. He remembers losing it at Johnny and Ten for sneaking alcohol into the dorm during their rookie days, which was admittedly crazy, even to them. Especially since their director was in the room right down the hall. He never thought he would be doing something similar. Doyoung didn’t feel the need to rebel against the system, but right now there’s a yearning in his chest he simply can’t ignore. 

Pretty soon everything about this obviously wrong decision just feels so  _right._ The burn that starts in his stomach travels up his spine and down his arms to the tips of his fingers. Then his whole body is engulfed by the feeling and when he looks at Jungwoo, eyes assaulted by how dangerously good he looks–bare faced, breakouts, chapped lips, and all–he feels even more out of control.

They’ve finished their drinks and somewhere in the last ten minutes started a game of would you rather, which is quickly spiraling downhill.

“Would you rather eat dog shit or walk in on manager hyung fresh out of the shower?” Jungwoo asks, completely serious. The boy is going to hell, he’s sure of it.

“That’s so _mean_ ,” he laughs, shoving the younger. Jungwoo argues that no, it’s not, and to _just answer the question_ —

“Honestly… I’d rather walk in on manager hyung. That’s not _that_ bad,” Doyoung shrugs.

“Ewwww you think manager hyung is hot?” Jungwoo is taken aback.

“I didn’t say all that! But if you had to eat dog shit or see him naked _once,_ that’s a no brainer,”

“You can get the dog shit out of your body, but you can’t get that image out of your mind,” Jungwoo rationalizes, tapping his index finger against his temple.

“Fuck off, it’s my turn,” Doyoung slurs. Jungwoo looks at him, eyes shining in anticipation. 

“Would you rather…,” he starts pausing to consider his options. The pressure is on to make this good, more difficult to choose, and funnier than the last.

“… get a buzzcut _or_ kiss Taeil hyung on the mouth,” Doyoung feels pretty pleased with himself until Jungwoo rolls his eyes.

“Easy. Buzzcut,”

“Figured,” he was expecting that.

“But only because I’ve already done the other one,” he says, nonchalant.

“Wait— _what_?” he wasn’t expecting _that._  

He grabs Jungwoo’s arm, stopping the younger in his tracks and forcing him to make eye contact.

“Don’t ask me to explain,” he giggles, tugging out of the older man’s hold.

“I’m just… shocked. Wow… you and Taeil hyung?” 

“Hyung,” he whines, “Shut _up_ ,”

“ _Ya—_ when did that even happen?”

“It was a dare, okay! Taeil hit me so hard afterwards I felt it for like a week, so, a definite two stars out of five,” 

“That’s _crazy_ ,” Doyoung laughs against the back of his hand, trying to picture it in his head.

“ _Anyways—_ ,” Jungwoo pulls the drawstrings of his hoodie until Doyoung can only see the tip of his nose poking through the fabric.

“Would you rather… kiss Taeyong hyung or Jaehyun?” 

That’s definitely more difficult. But Doyoung figures if he had to kiss one of them it would have to be Jaehyun because he’s just so _pretty_. However he knows, even in this imaginary scenario, if he kissed Jaehyun, Taeyong hyung would never let him hear the end of it. If he kissed Taeyong, then he’d at least be safe from Taeyong’s violently passive aggressive nature and Doyoung would rather not make their leader dislike him any more than he already does.

“Taeyong hyung. There’s no other way I could survive,” he jokes. Sort of.

The game carries on tamely for the next couple rounds. Jungwoo makes him choose between having nudes leaked or leaving Mark and Johnny with his phone, unlocked, for an hour. He makes Jungwoo decide between kissing Lee Soo Man or their witch of a voice instructor. Jungwoo chooses Lee Soo Man and Doyoung is laughing so hard his face hurts and his diaphragm aches, but all he can think about is how good this feels. 

He feels so good he can’t even think straight. He doesn’t get to see his friends from home very often and it feels so good to have Jungwoo right now, like this, free from the stress of work, their individual struggles, their countless responsibilities and the other members. For once, Doyoung feels like he’s allowed to enjoy being young and reckless and happy and _free_.

And then this crazy thought pops into his head:

 _I want to feel like this, always—every minute of every hour, every hour of every day. He makes me feel like this and I don’t even know why_ … 

“Would you rather make out with Johnny or Yukhei?” Doyoung wonders, choosing to focus on the game and not the ball of nerves in his stomach.

While he agreed to drown his woes in alcohol, Doyoung only feels his struggle with these complicated feelings deepen when he looks at Jungwoo. He feels like he’s no longer in control of his fate tonight, and that fact is more than terrifying. But despite the voice in the back of his head screaming at him, he’s just drunk enough on this feeling to embrace the unknown.

“You’re making these _way_ too easy, hyung,” Jungwoo slurs, his bottom lip curling underneath his top row of teeth. His eyelids are heavy against his cheeks, cheeks flushed beet red.

“Then which is it?” Maybe it’s the alcohol, but after that question about Taeil, Doyoung can’t predict Jungwoo’s answers anymore.

“Johnny hyung. Obviously,” he grumbles. Doyoung scoffs.

“Alright this is the money question,” Jungwoo starts, turning to Doyoung. The lead-in alone is cause for foreboding.

“Would you rather kiss Taeyong hyung…,” he pauses, fingering his bangs, hidden beneath the black hood of his pullover. Doyoung nods, awaiting the second option.

Something tells him he ought to be nervous right now, but the beer is slowing his body’s reactions.

 

“Or me,”

 

He doesn’t realize what Jungwoo just asked until he glances up and notices that the younger has stopped walking. He stands still, staring at the sidewalk like he’s realized his shoe is untied and is trying to decide whether or not now is a good time to kneel down and fix it. Only his shoe isn’t untied.

Once that train of thought has run its course, Doyoung’s heart begins to pound wildly against his sternum.

Jungwoo finally looks up, rubbing the back of his neck, uncertain. 

“Why is _that_ the money question?” Doyoung tries to ease the tension that’s suddenly erupted between them. 

But Jungwoo doesn’t seem to want to play along. He shrugs, averting his gaze once more.

Doyoung’s mouth has never felt so dry. The boy’s face is completely unreadable and he’s not sure if he should answer in truth and confidence like he did for the other questions in this game, or if he should just shut this whole thing down while he still can. 

But a part of him was longing for something like this to happen. He realizes— a part of him was always hoping, wishing for this moment. They’re together on a moonlit street in the middle of the night. They’re completely alone, and he’s drunk and quickly running out of reasons to convince himself he didn’t help Jungwoo orchestrate this predicament on purpose. 

It’s been a long time since he felt something like this for somebody. He can’t even remember the last time he was kissed. He’s always been more than willing to put aside his own desires for the sake of friends, family, or work. But right now, those things feel so far away.

Doyoung is not sure if it’s the darkness of the night, the exhaustion pulling at his bones, the alcohol thrumming in his veins or some toxic and deadly combination of all three, but when Jungwooo looks at him like that— 

He can’t bring himself to casually lie his way out of this one, or shrug his feelings away for another moment. Beneath all of the teasing, joking, heartfelt compliments and bad decision making is a very real, very strong, and unwavering desire for the boy. It’s something Doyoung has never been able to admit to himself until now. Should this sweet moment turn sour, he can always just say he was drunk and lonely and Jungwoo’s lips just looked so soft and that _the very idea of pressing his own against them made the alcohol churn hot like molten rock in his gut_ —

“You,” is what he finally says, voice barely a whisper. A dog barks in the distance, the only sound breaking the silence between their awkwardly shifting bodies.

 _Now what_ , Doyoung thinks snidely. He’s just exposed himself. Was he really stupid enough to think he could have anything he wanted?

Jungwoo stares back at him for what feels like a long time. Doyoung’s heart is racing and he’s not sure why Jungwoo asked him that, why he answered so honestly, or what any of this means. All he knows is that he can’t take his eyes off of the boy for even a second in fear that he might evaporate into the night.

The back of their hands brush just lightly, electricity sparking between them. Doyoung swallows hard, suddenly sober. 

He registers Jungwoo looking frantically around them. Then the younger man grips his wrist and he’s being tugged behind a random building and pressed up against a brick wall. Jungwoo leans in close, his eyes falling shut, lips parting in a whisper–

“Then _do it_ ,”

Doyoung is frozen like a statue, his eyes darting frantically between them as his brain desperately tries to catch up with whatever the hell just happened, or rather,  _is_ happening _._

“ _Please_ ,” Jungwoo begs, curling his fingers around Doyoung’s hand and giving it a soft squeeze. _Where did this come from?_ he wonders.

Should he? _God_ , he wants to. But is that a good idea? His mind and body seem to be operating on two separate planes right now and he can’t get them to come back together. This feeling– it’s different, so much stronger than anything he’s ever felt. He’s intoxicated, he keeps trying to remind himself, hoping it’ll satiate this hunger in his soul to understand why why _why_ he feels this way. But maybe there’s just too much he doesn’t know. Maybe he should just focus on what he does know.

Doyoung’s knees buckle under his weight and soon, as always, he can’t process anything other than this intense need to just _give Jungwoo what he wants_.  

So he closes his eyes and braces himself, ignoring the multitude of voices competing in his head. Everything is moving so fast, like a dream and he can’t see anything, but he can sense Jungwoo inching closer. 

He bites the bullet and closes the distance between them, their noses bumping just slightly before their lips meet in a soft, unsure kiss. He feels some comfort in the fact that Jungwoo is nervous, too.

The younger pulls back first, perhaps sensing his hesitation. Doyoung is breathing hard, his eyelids clenched shut tight as if this is a nightmare. It’s the exact opposite– a dream he never, ever wants to wake up from.

“Hyung,” Jungwoo murmurs, trying to get the older’s attention.

Doyoung’s eyes flutter open and there he is, the moonlight cascading upon his smooth, pale face, smiling timidly like he isn’t sure if they just stumbled upon a massive realization or if they’ve just made the biggest mistake of their careers. But he doesn’t seem all that fazed regardless of which one it is. 

“Yeah,” he answers, softly.

“Can I kiss you again?” Jungwoo touches his face, hesitantly.

Doyoung melts, his mind, body and soul simultaneously combusting. He has no idea what this is or why it’s happening, but he never wants it to end.

“Please,” he mimicks the younger, not trusting his voice enough to say anything more.

He gets his point across, though. Jungwoo reaches up, cups his face, tilts his head to the side and fits their mouths together once more. He sucks gently on his bottom lip this time, and it ignites something in him— kissing Jungwoo. His chest hurts and his fingers ache, but he’s not confident enough to reach out and touch him. But God, does he want to. He wants to hold him. 

They kiss for another minute like that, with Jungwoo leading. Doyoung is honestly too drunk on this feeling and too dizzy with emotion to do more than just kiss back. He wants so _much_ that in the end he just ends up doing nothing. _Typical_.

Jungwoo finally pulls away, his nose pressed against Doyoung’s for a long moment, shallow breaths hitting his top lip.

“We should go,” 

Doyoung looks at him, his heart sinking. He feels like he’s just been torn from a beautiful fantasy and dragged back down to his own shitty reality. 

But for the first time tonight, Jungwoo is actually making sense. 

“Okay,” he agrees.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

At some point on the walk back to the dorm, Jungwoo loops his arm through Doyoung’s, keeping their bodies close. He's singing some song Doyoung has never heard before, voice muffled against his shoulder. He sounds like an angel. The beer definitely hit him harder.

They’re back in the building now and Jungwoo still hasn’t let go. In the elevator, Doyoung mumbles against him that he should probably head back to his room because the last thing he needs is the other members panicking about Jungwoo’s whereabouts, and then the interrogation of why when and how he ended up in Doyoung’s room. But Jungwoo is drunk and sleepy and clinging to his hyung like a baby monkey, and Doyoung just can’t find it in his heart to make him go. 

Doyoung digs his wallet out of his back pocket, finds his key and slides it in the slot. The door beeps twice. He opens it and steps inside, Jungwoo following closely behind. He toes off his shoes as quietly as possible, shooting Jungwoo a glare when the boy kicks his sneakers off half-hazardly, sending them to the hardwood floor with an unapologetic thud. The younger smiles sheepishly.

Doyoung sighs, gripping Jungwoo’s wrist and tugging him in the direction of his bedroom. The lights are off and everyone is asleep, so he has to use every last brain cell to maneuver through the living room and the kitchen without bumping them into anything or stepping on the creaky floorboards. They pass through rather successfully, continuing on down the short hall towards his room.

“You really ought to go back to your room,” Doyoung tries again, sparing Jungwoo a glance before twisting the knob and pushing the door open.

The younger raises one hand to his mouth and yawns, his eyes fluttering with exhaustion. 

“I’m good,” he murmurs, a tired smile rising on his lips. 

Doyoung thinks about asking again, insisting, but he doesn’t think anything productive will come of it. Neither one of them are all that afraid of consequences. The entire night is proof of that.

As soon as the door closes, Jungwoo leaves his side and collapses onto his mattress, burying his face in his pillows. 

“Um– what do you think you’re doing?” Doyoung whispers in the dark as he strips off his hoodie. 

“Fuck!” Jungwoo gasps dramatically, rolling onto his back. He sits up slightly, tugging his snacks out of his front pocket.

“I crushed my chips,” he whines.

“Serves you right for stealing my bed,” Doyoung retorts, yanking his pajama pants back on, one leg at a time.

“Oh hyung," he slurs, tossing his sour gummy worms and the shattered remains of his potato crisps toward Doyoung’s nightstand. They both end up on the floor.

"There’s plenty of space left for you,”

“How generous,” he mutters, tossing his hoodie onto the floor. He spins on his heel and exits the room to brush his teeth for the second time tonight. 

He thinks about offering Jungwoo a toothbrush, as he’s spending the night. It would be the hospitable thing to do, and in his teeth’s best interest, considering the ungodly amount of sugar he’s consumed this evening. 

But when he reappears in the doorway of his bedroom to offer, his own toothbrush lodged behind his cheek, his dongsaeng is turned on his side, facing the wall with a pillow strangled in his arms. _He can’t be asleep,_  Doyoung thinks, as he takes one step into the room. But upon closer examination, he concludes that Jungwoo is indeed sound asleep in his bed. 

 _Lovely_ , Doyoung sighs, as he returns to the bathroom. He spits and rinses his mouth out before returning his toothbrush to the medicine cabinet, flicking off the light and heading back to his room.

He hooks his phone up to charge, resting it on the window sill. He turns toward the bed and for a minute, hesitates.

Doyoung is an idiot, he knows. But he’s drunk and who could blame him for thinking the obvious thoughts when he’s about to share a bed with this boy who makes his heart thunder in his chest and his stomach swell with butterflies— this boy who _kissed_ him not long ago. 

Doyoung still can’t believe that’s an actual thing that _happened_. He’s already replayed the series of events a hundred times in his head, analyzing it from different angles, trying to understand. Just like ten minutes ago, he's still too intoxicated and exhausted to come up with anything. 

He curses under his breath as he climbs onto the bed, carefully crawling over Jungwoo’s sleeping form so he doesn’t wake him. He finds a nice, snug sliver of space to settle in between the boy’s deadweight and the wall. He tucks his knees up towards his chest, turning on his side, and facing away from the younger. 

It’s a tight fit, the two of them in his twin bed. Jungwoo is oblivious to how much space he’s taking up, or the fact that he’s laying on top of the duvet so Doyoung can’t even get underneath. Other than that, it’s not so bad.

But the dorm is freezing tonight, so it’s really unfortunate that Doyoung doesn’t have access to his blanket. He wraps his arms around his midsection, trying to conserve heat. He wonders if he should get up again to grab his hoodie, but before he can even put the thought into action, he feels Jungwoo shift beside him.

Doyoung is surprised when the younger starts sliding across the mattress. Jungwoo must think he is asleep already, because without any warning, he presses his front to Doyoung’s back, tucking his cheek against his shoulder blade. He slips his hand onto Doyoung’s waist, just below his ribcage, and slowly slides it across his midsection to settle on the flat of his stomach. 

Doyoung tries to keep his breathing steady so he doesn’t expose the fact that he is still awake. Because _yes_ , he wants Jungwoo close, holding him like this, and he doesn’t want to move one muscle in fear that the boy might pull away. 

He’s never been the little spoon before and it feels so good to have someone engulfing him completely. Being held, being kissed - it’s something Doyoung could get used to. That is, if any part of this night would be recalled tomorrow.

In no time at all, warmth flourishes in his bones, spreading from the top of his ears down to the soles of his feet. He welcomes the sensation, as if it were a drug. It drowns out every loud thought until his eyelids are heavy and his heart rate is even. 

 

It takes Doyoung a little while to realize that the initial tenderness he felt for his band mate is quickly evolving into something else. 

He starts to watch Jungwoo more closely— examining his expressions and movements. How he shrinks into himself during evaluations, or the way his posture isn’t actually that good until they’re filming something; the way his hands sometimes shake when he’s nervous, how when something is _really_ funny his eyes light up like infernos, his lips fall open and he claps his hands like the happiest little seal. That he’ll often zone out when being directed, and the way his brows furrow together cutely when Taeyong or their dance instructor is critiquing his movements. That he can’t cook for shit but _completely_ loses his sense of humor when he hasn’t eaten. 

Doyoung notices other things too— like, that Jungwoo isn’t always confident, but the effort he puts forth each day despite that is incredible and makes him feel so proud. 

Doyoung takes careful notes of all these things in his heart. He wants to learn what makes Jungwoo tick, what types of food, music and movies he can’t stand and how to cheer him up when he’s feeling down. He can’t think of anything more important to him than his friendship with Jungwoo, and he wants to be the very _best_ best friend he can be.

Doyoung realizes a pattern about himself, too. Like, whenever Jungwoo seems unsure about something, he is always the first to offer him guidance or advice. If Jungwoo gets hurt dancing, he will step out to grab him ice or a brace or medicated ointment and later helps catch him up on the parts he missed while sitting out. When he’s sensitive after being scolded, exhausted and overwhelmed by work or having trouble with another member, Doyoung is his shoulder to cry on, offering him kind, understanding words and another perspective on the situation. Jungwoo gets extremely anxious before performances, sometimes working himself into a panic, so Doyoung tries his hardest to make the boy laugh to take his mind off of it. 

He has always enjoyed looking after the younger members, but nothing compares to how he feels taking care of Jungwoo. He’ll look at the younger boy and his chest starts to burn with everything he feels for him, all the things he wants to teach him and all the ways he wants to show him he cares. Doyoung starts to think that if _anything_ in this world ever made Jungwoo unhappy, scared, hurt, stressed, or angry, that he would do _everything_ in his power to put an end to it. 

He sometimes wonders, when he is sitting alone in his room, or watching the city pass from the backseat of the van, that he should tell Jungwoo that. 

But talking about his feelings isn’t something he’s ever been good at. And confessing them was never really an option– of course until that night they snuck out of the dorm together. 

Ever since then, his stomach has been twisting in knots and his heart has been palpitating as his mind whirrs with the question, _what if?_

_What if Jungwoo feels the same way?_

But Doyoung doesn’t really want to test the theory. There’s still too much at stake. He doesn’t want to make things weird. He won’t sacrifice their friendship for anything, and certainly not a half-baked whim that he might be romantically interested in the younger. 

Besides, Jungwoo was drunk and probably just kissed him that night out of sheer boredom. And he’s probably grown close to the elder because he’s lonely and intimacy starved like the rest of them. It’s nothing to get worked up over. 

 

The next few days are a whirlwind of work, work and more work. Doyoung doesn’t get a spare moment to organize his thoughts, let alone to confront Jungwoo with them. The very next morning he goes straight from practice to SBS. They have to film something in the afternoon, then a fitting for a showcase the following evening. They have tour rehearsal the next day after dance practice, then a team meeting, then the actual showcase. It’s not until Friday that Doyoung gets some time to himself, let alone any to spend with Jungwoo.

He sometimes gets this ache in his chest when he thinks about the boy, or when he sees him in rehearsal. Doyoung will catch his gaze for a brief few seconds in the mirror of the practice room, Jungwoo will flash a quick smile and it’s just enough to keep him sane until they're wrapping up for the day. 

That ache is soothed that evening when the boy appears in the doorway of his bedroom. Doyoung glances up from his phone screen, where he was responding to a lengthy, but loving message from his mother. 

“Hi,” Jungwoo says, passing a nervous hand through his hair. 

“Hey,” Doyoung replies, trying not to let how excited he is show on his face. It’s been nearly a week since they snuck out of the dorm together and they’ve been so busy, but Doyoung has spent every spare moment thinking about him. 

“What are you doing right now?” the younger wonders, looking like he’s got something up his sleeve.

“Nothing. Why?” he quickly answers.

“I’m bored,” he shrugs.

Doyoung watches him as he rounds the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight when he sits at the end of it. 

Doyoung looks back down at his phone, but he can sense Jungwoo’s eyes on him. Neither one of them say anything, and for a long minute he’s struck with the fear that this is going to be awkward. It’s the first time they’ve been alone together since that night. 

His fears are assuaged when Jungwoo breaks the silence with a tirade about this show he started watching the other night. He claims it’s funny and dramatic and that the actors are handsome and the plot is good, that sci-fi fantasy stuff he knows Doyoung likes and that he should check it out. And Doyoung quickly chastises him for saying he should watch only _after_ telling him the whole plot. Jungwoo laughs and suggests they just watch it. 

Doyoung grabs his laptop from the floor, groaning theatrically at how the movement pulls his sore muscles. He sits up, places it on the bed and starts it up. Jungwoo tells him to scoot over, and he does a little too eagerly, nearly pitching himself over the edge of the mattress. Jungwoo gasps and breaks out into a burst of laughter. Doyoung glares at him.

Jungwoo pulls up Netflix and finds the show he’s been talking about. Doyoung grabs his blanket from the end of the bed, tugging the corner out from under Jungwoo’s legs. Although Jungwoo says he is already on season two (which is witchcraft, considering their hectic schedules), he decides to start the show over from the beginning. 

And Jungwoo is the king of spoilers, always has been. The other members don’t invite him around when they’re watching movies or shows or playing popular games because he loves to just blurt out what happens. Like right now. He’s having a hard time _not_ talking about the plot as it’s unfolding on the screen between them.

This habit is usually extremely annoying, but Doyoung doesn’t really mind. He's not all that invested in the plot. 

He’s more focused on the fact that Jungwoo’s leg is pressed up against his under the blanket, the way his body heat warms him from the inside out and reminds him of the last time they were in his bed together. 

He still has a lot to figure out about that night and the way he feels. What does it mean that he still misses Jungwoo, even though they’re together every day? What does it mean that he spends every waking moment thinking about that drunken kiss? And what does it mean that he desperately wants it to happen again?

These thoughts keep him occupied for two or three episodes before Jungwoo looks over at him. 

“Hyung, quick—truth or dare?” he suddenly asks. 

The question tears him from his reverie. He looks at Jungwoo, squinting suspiciously.

“Truth,” he says, slowly.

“Do you want to keep watching this?” Jungwoo wonders. His eyes are so big and brown and searching and Doyoung already feels a twinge of guilt in his stomach for what he’s about to say. 

“… not really,” he mumbles. Jungwoo sighs.

“Wow. You could’ve just told me you hated it,” 

Doyoung can’t tell if he’s kidding or not, but hate is a strong word. Nonetheless, he feels bad that he zoned out on a show his friend was so excited to share with him. 

“I don’t, I swear– it’s just… uh, the plot moves kinda slow,” he tries. 

“No, it doesn’t. You're just impatient,” Jungwoo accuses, poking him in the sternum once. Doyoung slides his hand down his chest, soothing the jab. 

“I'm definitely not,” he mutters.

“Are too,” Jungwoo insists.

“No. The truth is, you just spoiled the entire thing, so now I can’t even enjoy it,” he argues. It’s still a lie, but it’s more believable than his last effort.

“Lies! You weren’t even listening to me. I _can_ tell you know,” Jungwoo laughs, his eyes glowing.

“Ya, I've been a good fucking host– I let you steal my laptop, my bed, and my _whole_ blanket, and _this_ is the thanks I get?” Doyoung explodes, doing his very best to seem offended. He’s not sure he pulled it off, though, because Jungwoo just keeps laughing, grabs him by the arm and leans his head against his shoulder apologetically. 

He loves teasing Jungwoo. And while he hates being teased by the other members, for some reason he doesn’t mind it from him. Doyoung enjoys receiving Jungwoo’s attention in any form, the way he looks at him like he’s the only thing _ever_ in this world.

“For the record, I didn’t steal anything. You gave all those willingly,” he reminds, which is true. 

Doyoung smiles, looking down between them. He’s suddenly reminded that the show is still playing on his laptop, the voices of the characters and the intense original soundtrack mere background noise to his own mysterious story with Jungwoo. 

“… did you want to watch anything else?” the younger eventually asks, probably worried he’s boring him.

“Not really,” Doyoung shrugs, glancing over at Jungwoo. 

It’s corny, but just having the boy around is more entertaining than all of his favorite shows combined. 

He lets his eyes linger for a moment too long, analyzing the features of Jungwoo’s perfect face— the careful arch of his brows, down the thin slope of his nose, over the soft, rounds of his cheeks, to the sweet, heart shaped bow of his lips. Kim Jungwoo is so beautiful to him, in so many ways. 

He quickly tears his attention back to the screen of his laptop, trying not to get lost in the depth of those deep, dark eyes.

Jungwoo clears his throat gently, shifting a little in his seat before speaking up once more.

“Then what do you want to do?” 

Doyoung looks over at the boy again and this time, Jungwoo is already staring back. No doubt, he is trying to read his mind. But there’s nothing in there he needs to see; nothing he could make any sense of.

He swallows hard as he’s struck with a hot, heavy memory of his back pressed against the wall, those same eyes boring into his soul, and Jungwoo’s lips, flush against his. He can almost feel everything he felt that night all over again. 

Something sparks in his gut— a wish, a hope, a prayer. It sends electricity to his fingertips, makes them burn with the need to reach out and touch Jungwoo, draw him closer and press his mouth against his. 

Time stands still just like it did then, both of them holding the other's gaze, breaths shallow as a shared idea dances around the room. 

Jungwoo seems to be successful in reading his mind, reaching across Doyoung’s lap to close the laptop and placing it on the floor. Jungwoo holds his attention as he slowly rises onto his knees, the blanket falling from his lap as he crawls closer. He watches Doyoung carefully as he slides one leg over both of his, moving to sit on top of his thighs. 

Although he anticipated the movement and watched Jungwoo go for it, for some reason Doyoung is still astounded. He can feel his heart already pounding in his chest, so many confusing and wonderful thoughts whirring like a storm in his mind. 

“Is this okay?” Jungwoo asks, timidly.

Doyoung nods, not trusting his voice. He tries to calm down, to relax his body and mind and just focus on this moment. But Jungwoo looks so pretty sitting there on top of him, his bottom lip tucked between his top row of teeth. He looks a little unsure, like he’s come this far and now he doesn’t know what to do. 

But Jungwoo clearly has a better clue of what to do than him, because slowly, he starts to lean in. Doyoung didn’t think his heart could beat any faster, but he’s wrong again. Jungwoo watches his expression as long as he can before his eyes flutter shut and their lips touch. 

It’s slow, uncertain, just like it was that night. It’s even worse because now they’re both completely sober, with nothing to take the edge off the nerves. There is no distraction from the fact that they’re really doing this. 

But that’s also what makes it even better. It’s more exciting. He feels completely raw and exposed, like Jungwoo is reaching into his body and extracting his soul, coaxing out every feeling he’s tried so hard to hide from him. 

Doyoung feels his entire body shiver like a fever when Jungwoo pulls away. His eyelids part slowly and the sight of the boy takes his breath away. Jungwoo’s soft brown hair hangs in his eyes, his gaze is sweet and searching and his cheeks are warm with embarrassment. He lets out a shaky breath he probably didn’t realize he was holding, laughing gently. Doyoung laughs too and it helps. A little.

Jungwoo feels around for Doyoung’s hand. He pulls it between both of his and just holds it there, stroking over his knuckles. 

He looks like he wants to say something, but instead he just leans back in. His chest presses against Doyoung’s as their lips collide, this time with more intentionality. Doyoung loses his senses in that moment, only able to focus on how it feels. There is no pressure to do anything, so his entire body goes limp. And it feels amazing.

Kissing Jungwoo is the most amazing thing he could describe. It’s the best thing he’s ever felt. It makes him feel the way he’s always wanted to feel: comfortable, welcomed and safe. It’s like there’s nothing else beyond this moment. The warm press of Jungwoo’s body on top of him and the faint scent of his skin reminds him of something hidden deep in the recesses of his mind, a beautiful memory or a feeling of something unreachable. Something he knows he hasn’t had in a long time. And then Jungwoo’s lips are so soft, so careful. He doesn’t move too fast, rather savoring the moment. He kisses almost politely, kindly asking for more. 

And Doyoung kisses back with the answer, _yes, please, don't ever stop_ —

Jungwoo tilts his head to the side just a bit, running the tip of his tongue along the seam of Doyoung’s lips. He’s testing the waters, still unsure of how far he can take it. Doyoung parts his lips and welcomes the boy into his mouth, unable to process how good it feels when Jungwoo rubs his tongue against his. He cups one hand on the back of Jungwoo’s neck, using it to draw him as close as physically possible. 

Doyoung arches when the boy starts to pull away to breathe, unwilling to part from him for even a second. He kisses him this time, desperate. He gently presses his tongue against the roof of Jungwoo’s mouth before starting to draw it out. The younger sucks it back in, breathing hard through his nose. 

After a minute, Jungwoo pulls back to look at him, smiling with his tongue between his teeth. Doyoung stares at him, unable to think of a single coherent thought. 

Jungwoo moves closer, so close the tips of their noses brushing just lightly. 

“Hyung,” he breathes. Doyoung’s stomach flips. 

He hums, moving the pads of his fingers along the skin of Jungwoo’s neck. Jungwoo swipes his tongue across his bottom lip, contemplating something. 

He kisses the corner of Doyoung’s mouth once, his voice no louder than a whisper when he says,

“I like you,” 

Doyoung inhales slowly, trying to stay composed despite the substantial escalation of his heart rate. Because _what on earth does that mean?_

Jungwoo doesn’t give anything away on his face, and Doyoung can’t tell if he’s being serious. He wants to ask Jungwoo what’s going on, if he really means what he thinks he does, or if he’s just teasing. No one could blame him for being skeptical.

Before Doyoung can ask any of his grueling questions, Jungwoo closes in on him, melting his lips against his once again. He reaches both hands up to caress Doyoung’s face, thumbs resting just under the corners of his jaw. He holds him in place as he changes the angle of the kiss, flicking his tongue out towards the back of Doyoung’s throat.

His fingers move shakily along the boy’s midsection until his hand is sprawled against the curve of his back. Doyoung clutches the thin fabric of his shirt, tugging his body impossibly close.

In response, Jungwoo kisses him back a little harder, a little faster and Doyoung absolutely cannot think. He wants so _much_ his head is reeling and his entire body feels like it’s being set on fire. The warmth of Jungwoo’s form on top of him is blinding, intoxicating. This feeling numbs his senses, clouds his thoughts and soon the only thing circling his mind is _Jungwoo, Jungwoo Jungwoo_ —

He wonders what good deeds he has done to deserve this. He must be trapped in a fantasy, because everything about this is simply too good to be true. He can’t believe he lives in a world where he gets to do what he loves and kiss the boy of his dreams. Things just don’t work out like that. 

Seconds turn into minutes and those minutes feel like hours. Pretty soon he doesn’t know how long they’ve been kissing. It feels so good, he’s lost touch with reality and has no desire to return. 

As he tangles himself in Jungwoo, one hand curved around his waist, the other clutching the collar of his shirt, Jungwoo’s fingers lost in the strands of his hair, lips locked, bodies stitched together as one, and his mind and soul completely focused on him, Doyoung thinks he’s starting to understand what he feels. He thinks he knows what this is. The only thing left to do is admit it. 

Eventually Jungwoo’s kisses slow, he stops supporting his weight and just melts against Doyoung’s body. He rubs the younger’s back through his shirt, trying to keep him close although he’s already started pulling away. 

Doyoung kisses him gently, one last time, trying to savor every thing this moment has to offer. He reluctantly lets Jungwoo tug himself away. The only thing that makes up for his absence is the way he looks right now: the collar of his shirt wrinkled and askew across his shoulder, his lips dark and kiss swollen, eyes hooded, glassy and struggling to focus.  

“Come here,” Doyoung whispers. He fears this tender moment might shatter if he spoke any louder. 

He welcomes the younger into his side and without a word, Jungwoo lays down, resting his head on Doyoung’s chest. Neither of them speak, and for now Doyoung pushes away the thought that they probably should. They’ve done this two times now, he thinks. Once is an accident, once is an experiment, a mistake or a dare in a game. But _twice—_  

Twice is intentional.

And if it’s intentional, Jungwoo ought to know.

“Jungwoo,” he murmurs, tracing slow circles along the curve of his back. The younger hums.

“I like you too,” he says.

A beat passes, long enough to make Doyoung doubt saying anything at all. Then Jungwoo sits up, turning towards the older and resting his gaze on his face. 

“Well that’s a relief,” he smiles, almost as if he already knew. Doyoung chuckles softly. He wonders if he made it that obvious. He feels so silly for ever worrying. 

Jungwoo tucks himself back into Doyoung’s side, draping one arm over his stomach. 

“Do you think it’s gonna be a problem?” the younger murmurs against him, about a minute later. Doyoung frowns.

“That what’s gonna be a problem?”

“You know… _this_ ,” Jungwoo hesitates. The older sighs.

“Not if we’re careful,” 

Being outed is something he’s thought about quite a lot. Dating and stuff is obviously against the rules, but he knows plenty of other members who have had romantic flings and even long term partners while working. It’s just a matter of being cautious. As long as they don’t go shouting it from the rooftops, or engaging in public displays of affection, no one will be the wiser. 

It kind of sucks that as long as Doyoung feels this way, he’ll have to pretend he doesn't. But it’s a small win to know that Jungwoo feels the same.

Rather than ponder that for any longer, he focuses on the warm press of Jungwoo’s body against his, the sweet smell of his shampoo, the steady rise and fall of his stomach as he breathes. The younger easily falls asleep against him. He soon follows, lulled by the promise of love requited.

 


End file.
